Lack of Eloquence
by heartsvilleMonarch
Summary: Spook can't figure out why Darren's illusions seem patchier than usual. He also doesn't understand why his heart skips a little when his best friend walks in to the room- until his friends help him to see just what's happening. Spook/Darren, one-shot.


**(Lack of) Eloquency**

**Warnings/Info: **Melodramatic/Confused!Spook on the way. He also swears once or twice. Slash throughout- Sparren!

**AN: **Hello! It's about time there was some more Sparren in the fandom, so here's a strange, fluffy, angsty sort of fic. I'm experimenting with style and present tense, so be warned, it's a bit odd. I'm really, really terrible at writing in the present tense anyway, so I'd love to hear some constructive criticism or thoughts on how the story flows. I hope you'll like it though! It's set a week or so before the disco in "Stirring The Storm," if anyone's wondering.

* * *

The first time it happens, Spook shrugs it off as the product of a waning cold, or his lack of focus that day. Darren doesn't notice anything, and the two chat and laugh as normal.

The second time, it's enough for him to sit up and take notice.

"Darren!" he calls out indignantly. His best friend looks up attentively, confused. He gestures for Spook to speak.

"Yeah, what?"

"Didn't you just see that?" He gestures again to the empty air space above his hand. Darren shakes his head.

"See what?" For the second time, Spook throws an illusion. Nothing special, a few flashes of light, a sparkle, a mix of bright colours. Darren furrows his brow, and honestly _squints._

"Fireworks?" He guessed, and Spook splutters, shocked.

"You can't_ tell?"_

"It's a little..." Darren's mouth quirks, and he looks wary. "A little patchy. Are you feeling all right?" His voice immediately sounds concerned, and he moves quickly over to put a hand on his friend's head. Spook shies away from the contact immediately. "Sorry, sorry. Maybe the cold's coming back," Darren suggests. "Or maybe we're all getting it?" He suddenly thinks aloud, panicked.

"Throw something," and Darren quickly projects the image of a glittery star, turning round on a point. Spook snorts at him.

"You can see it, then?"

"Yes, you massive gay."

"Says the guy with the miniature fireworks!" Darren protests, and they continue to joke around. Spook laughs with his mouth, but his eyes stay fixed, anxiously staring at his room-mate.

* * *

"What's wrong with me, Clive?" Spook moans on a cold, bitter afternoon. It's winter, only a few days later, and Spook has stretched his arms out on the table, his forehead resting on the cool worksurface.

"A number of things, I should imagine," Clive starts off, before the antagonistic red-head looks at him with the words "_don't_ _start_" etched on his forehead. "Sorry. What's wrong?"

Spook sits up. "I don't know," he admits painfully, as Clive isn't exactly one of his favourite people.

"Then... why are you talking to me?" Clive looks at him strangely. "Why are you here? Surely Darren would be a better person to talk to..." he broke off on the look at Spook's face. "Or not, then. All right, what is it?"

"Can you see my illusions properly?" Spook bursts out, much to Clive's suprise. Quickly, the boy projects one of his better images. Clive is suddenly surrounded by a beautiful golden light, and his mouth falls open softly. His eyes stray to looking at the climbing beams of the light aura, before Spook lets it fade away. Clive nods, and Spook finally lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

"Yes," Clive returns quietly. "Yes, I see them perfectly." His eyes narrow. "That was rather, well, gentle, for you. Normally when you throw an illusion at me it's something quite hideous."

"Sorry," Spook mumbles. "It's just, you're Jones' friend, and all..."

"We'll get to that later," Clive decides, and smiles bevelolently at him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Darren... he's having trouble seeing my illusions. But no-one else is, well, apart from Dog-breath-"

"Dax," Clive intones sternly. "His name is _Dax._"

"Right, Dax, but that doesn't count, 'cause he's resistant anyway." The boy spits out the word like it's a curse. "Why is he the only one?"

"This has really got you worried, hasn't it?"

"Yes," Spook confirms. "Yes it has."

* * *

Spook figures it out a day or so later. He's just sitting there in the common room, wondering why he feels like the bottom's fallen out of his stomach when Darren walks in with his joyful, infectious smile, and suddenly Spook's stomach is now doing backflips, somersaults, fizzing up so much that he almost feels sick. This is so unexpected that his eyes are wide for a second, and he runs past Darren to get out of the door. Spook doesn't look back untill he's safely in his room, and he slides down to collapse on the carpet.

_Fuck, _he thinks to himself. _When did that start to happen? So suddenly, as well, _he muses.

A knock sounds on the door, jerking him out of his reverie.

"Spook?"

Darren is cautious as he sidles in to find his friend lying on the floor dejectedly. Spook makes a non-commital sound, and Darren steps over his body to flop on his bed. "What's wrong?"

Spook doesn't answer for a minute. And then- "Darren?"

"Yeah?"

"Throw an illusion for me. I want to test something."

Darren eagerly complies, and sends a simple red light dancing around the room. He knows that it's one of Spook's favourite tricks, so he's suprised when it doesn't make him smile, or even allow the corner of his mouth to twitch.

"Try another," Spook orders. Immediately, Spook is left staring at his mirror image, with a slight difference. His reflection is smiling happily, and then fades as Darren struggles to keep up the illusion. The other glamourist searches for a word to describe it... and all he can think of is-

"Patchy."

"Oh." The boy wonders if there is a point to this. "You okay, Spook?"

He thinks about shaking his head, but knows that it would do no good. With the flickering images that Darren produced, everything has become clear.

"The LOB," Spook whispers, so that his friend strains to hear. "It's never been this bad before."

"What do you mean?" Darren asks cautiously, but the red-head shrugs his question off.

"I honestly don't know. Never been more confused in my life," he admits, and Darren thinks that he could say the same.

* * *

"Talk to him," Mia urges her friend. "I know he's worried about you."

The two are alone in the common room, a rare occasion. Spook treasures these little moments with the girl, because any other time they try to talk the disapproving glances of the holier-than-thou trio let the fleeting conversations wilt and die. He tries to focus on her features, Mia's soft violet eyes, her sweet faded freckles, the sweep of her chocolate hair as it falls around her shoulders. Try as he might, though, he's not so much focusing as comparing. Mia's chocolate hair is nothing next to Darren's milky chocolate skin, and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, Spook can't help but imagine running his fingers through the thick ebony hair of his best friend.

"I can't," he moans. "This is too screwed up. _I'm_ screwed up. It's not normal, Mia. This isn't normal at all."

"Hey!" She chides him gently. "You're not screwed up. Don't you dare go thinking that."

Spook looks at her, and his eyes are bleak. "You don't care, then. You don't care that I'm a..." he struggles to find the right word, and ends up cursing softly with "a fag."

"Spook!" Mia cries. "Don't say that! You're not a- a"

"That's the difference between you and me," Spook informs her, gentler this time. "You can't say it, can you? I was brought up saying it. My father... there was this man once, living near us. He had a... a boyfriend. My dad didn't rest untill he and his other golfing, horse-riding, _country_ _club_ _buddies_ had driven them out of town." Spook was more animated now, standing up, spitting out his words. "That's what he does, to people like me. He's the most..." he exhaled heavily, "the most... it's not safe, Mia. Nowhere is safe."

There was a long, ringing pause. It swept the room like an icy wind, and both teenagers tried desperately to look anywhere but the eyes of each other.

"Everyone always said you liked me," Mia reminded them. "Not that I'm, I mean, I'm glad you don't. That would be awkward, to say the least." Spook almost laughs.

"So what do I do now?"

"Go and talk to Darren," Mia says again.

"What, now?"

"I don't see why not," she smiles at him. "I think he's in the hall, practising. I'm pretty sure I heard him singing "Not Alone" when I was walking down here."

It's that moment when the last person Spook wants to see- Gideon Reader, of all people, walking in to the joint common room. Mia smiles at him gracefully, but Spook fights to keep the scowl off his face untill he remembers that it's Gideon, really, and he doesn't give a damn what he thinks.

"Problem, Williams?" The blonde asks casually as he saunters in to the room. Spook grits his teeth.

"None that's any of your business," he returns, and then the lines on his face get deeper as Gideon's foxy friend enters at his heels. "Jones," he acknowledges, and after an awkward silence Spook reckons he should go. As always, when he knows when he's not wanted. "Thanks for the help Mia," and she smiles prettily as he leaves.

* * *

The route to the hall is a short one, and sure enough he hears the rich, honeyed tones of his best friend singing some generic pop song. What a waste, he thinks, but smiles anyway as he enters to see Darren staning on the stage, tapping his foot and singing his heart out. Clive sits idly by the piano, chiming in every so often with a harmony. Spook waits patiently untill they finish, and claps. Daren perks up at the sound.

"Long time no see," he greets, amused. He jumps down to sit on the edge of the stage. His legs dangle down merrily as Spook shuffles over to sit beside him.

"Hey."

Darren searches his friend's face worriedly. "How are you feeling?"

"I keep telling you, I'm not ill." He's struck by a sudden thought and swivels round to face the pianist, who is sporadically tinkling away on the off-white keys. "Clive, Barry's looking for you in the lab." Clive's hands stop moving immediately, and he sighs.

"Thanks. I'd better go see what he wants." He walks off, mumbling something about "that silly diet plan." Spook waits patiently untill he is finally alone with the one person he needs to talk to and then turns back to him. Darren looks apprehensive.

"What is it?" he asks cautiously.

"Need to talk to you about something. You'll probably think I'm insane, but whatever. Blame Mia."

"Go on," Darren prompts, and the confessor takes a deep breath. A calming breath. He takes a little more time than he should, and wonders if this is what hyperventilating feels like, though Darren doesn't look worried enough for that. Anxious, though. definitely.

"Spit it out," he jokes warily. The corners of his mouth twitch and Spook suddenly imagines wiping the strange, alien smile off his face with a kiss.

That sounds a little vicious, and he's more than a little worried. _It's screwed up, _the ghost of his recent past reminds him. _"You're screwed up in the head."_

"Do you want a minute?" Darren asks. He knows his best friend well, sometimes too well, so he waits for the inevitable nod. Spook stays still... then shakes his head.

"Nah. See, that's one of the reasons, you know? You're such a..." he searches for the right word. "Good friend," Spook finishes lamely, though Darren looks relieved.

"Wasn't at all sure what you were going to say then. Still, that's good. I think you're a good friend too, though a rather confusing one." He tilts his head to survey Spook better.

There's a slow, plodding silence, and Spook is starting to forget why he was doing this in the first place. After a second, he feels Darren's cautious arm snake around his shoulders, holding him close, and remembers why.

"I think I'm in... I think I like you," he blurts out, to Darren's suprise. He doesn't drop his arm, which Spook takes as a good sign so he carries on. "Because- because I've known you for ages, but recently..." he fails once again to discover the right words. Eloquency was never one of his strong points.

_I'm in for it now, _he thinks, and plunges in head first.

"You're always, well, really kind to everyone. And you sing like no-one I've ever heard, and sometimes when you're humming or even just singing under your breath, it still sounds amazing. And we have such a great time together, and you've always stayed with me, even though I've done some fucking stupid things in the past."

Darren neither confirms or disproves this statement, but simply stares at Spook with an expression that the tormented boy can't quite figure out.

"Also, you probably don't know this, but you're kind of beautiful. Not in a girly way, but in a you've-got-really-dark-gorgeous-eyes kind of way." That sounds weird even as he's saying it, but he knows in his heart that it's true. "Even when you're staring at me like I'm mad. Which maybe I am," he adds as an afterthought. Darren's proclaimedly gorgeous dark eyes search his counterpart's glittering green ones for reason, or answers.

"I'm a little confused," he starts after a pause.

"Tell me about it."

"No, not about that." He laughs, and informs Spook that, "I haven't been confused about _that _for a while now. It's just... are you saying you think you _should _like me, because of all the stuff you just mentioned, or-"

"No!" Spook interrupts. "No, not that. I really do like you. I might even be a little bit in love with you, I just can't tell yet."

"Well," Darren muses, "there's only one way to be certain, right?"

"And what would- _mmph!" _

Darren quickly leant forward and captured Spook in a clumsy, but sweet kiss. Spook was so shocked that Darren was being honestly _assertive _for once that he almost forgot to respond, until it felt like the other boy was about to pull away. Well, he wasn't about to let _that _happen. Spook grabbed his best mate's/crushes/potential boyfr- or, maybe not? (_It's not the time to quibble about terminology, _he reminded himself rapidly-) took _Darren's_ hands, drew them closer to him and then placed his own palms on Darren's waist. Spook wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing as neither of them had any experience with _anyone_, let alone another guy, but as Darren pulls back for air the look on his face told him all he needed to know.

"Oh," was all he could say, and then for the first time that day, he honestly smiles. Opposite him, Darren looked positively ecstatic.

"Finally!" he exhales, and then adds, "do you know how long I've been waiting for that? For you?"

Spook shook his head.

"I know how long I have," he offers up weakly.

"I wondered why you were being so weird lately, but I didn't dare hope..." Spook hasn't yet reliquished Darren's hands, and he curls his fingers around the others instead of finishing the sentence. All the time, he notices how _right_ the pale, freckly colour of his best friend's fingers looks against the dark, coffee-colour of his own. "The other guys are going to freak," Darren states casually.

Almost immediately, Spook's hands shot back to his sides. His green eyes are suddenly wild, and he shakes his head.

"What?"

"We can't tell anyone," he answers like it was obvious. "This is weird enough without that lot knowing as well."

"You honestly care?" Darren's voice is soft and almost dangerous now. He looks much colder than before. "But I thought- no, don't worry."

"Darren, I didn't mean it like that. Honestly I didn't," the boy calls out, but Darren is already on his feet.

"Forget it. In fact, forget all of it. I wouldn't want to be a weird embarassment for you." His words were laced with a cold, harsh poison. Spook mentally slapped himself- he'd forgotten how easily Darren could snap when he was on the verge of losing his temper, simply because it hadn't happened in a long time. The last time he could remember Darren being truly angry was when he'd brought that dog in to scare Dax.

"No, wait!" A bell chimes, rudely interrupting him, but reminding everyone else in Fenton Lodge that it's time to meet up in the cafeteria for dinner. Darren leaves without another word, Spook hot on his heels.

* * *

"Wait! For god's sake, Darren, you can't just walk away like nothing happened!"

They've reached the cafeteria door, Darren pushes through and sits next to Clive without saying anything. A perfect mask settles on his face as he is immediately accepted in to the conversation. Spook hangs by the doorway, angry and confused. Darren pays him no attention until Spook sits down directly opposite. They let the conversation bubble up untill it washed over whatever they need to say.

"You can't just walk away," Spook insists again.

"No," Darren agrees with him. He's vaguely aware of Clive listening in, but pushes the thought away. He doesn't care about anyone else right now. "Shall I tell you what else you can't do? You can't keep sending out mixed signals, you can't say heartfelt speeches to someone and then retract them a second later-" Darren's voice rises, and suddenly all eyes shoot to the disturbance at the end of the table. "You can't just _kiss _people like you just did and then cover it over like it didn't mean anything!"

His breathing is slightly ragged now, and he makes eye-contact with no-one but the table and his untouched food.

"It did mean something," Spook urges. Darren's lips set in to a hard, mocking line, alien to the normally bright, attentive face.

"Yeah?" He goads. "Prove it, then."

The illusionist says nothing. How do you prove something like that with words, when you are used to the comfort of images, illusions, the slight of hand producing answers so that your mouth doesn't have to? Spook realises that he hasn't said anything yet, though everyone seems to be waiting for him to.

"Awkward," Alex, the little runt sings under his breath. Spook shoots him a death glare, not unlike the one Darren is wearing now.

"See, you've made your choice." Darren's word stay with him even after he leaves.

"No, I haven't," the red-head whispers. The room is silent.

"You're a moron," Clive states suddenly. "Go after him!"

"Why?" _Leave me be, _he thinks.

"Because he loves you!" Clive stares at him in wonderment. "He has for ages, and you manage to mess it up in one go. There's still time- go after him!"

"I don't really want to say this, but Spock's right. We've all been watching you two run around each other for weeks now."

"You-" Spook looks at all of them. He can scarcely bare to believe it. "You don't mind, then?"

"Didn't care about you in the first place," Gideon huffs from the other end of the table. His comrades all look positively at him, however, which is enough to make Spook stand up. Hope swells up in his chest.

"Wish me luck, then," he calls and almost runs out of the room with a "good luck!" from Mia, and Jenny of all people.

The remaning Cola's, and Clive all start to talk again. Alex poked his brother in the side with a fork.

"Ow- what?"

"You owe me a tenner," he reminds Jacob with a cocky grin.

"Like hell I do. This isn't over yet."

* * *

Spook breathes out heavily as he approaches the door to Room 6. He knows that Darren is in there, as through the painted wood he hears the familiar twang of "Musetta's Waltz" from his beloved guitar.

The door pushes open slowly. Darren looks up with dark, sorrowful eyes and Spook's heart skips a beat.

"I'm sorry," he says immediately. "I shouldn't have said this was weird, because it's not, it's bloody _perfect, _and I'm... yeah, I'm sorry." He walks over to his bed and slowly sits down. Darren doesn't take his eyes off him the whole time, and almost smiles.

"Thanks. I'm sorry as well- I shouldn't have snapped like that. Can we start again?" Spook marvels at how quickly Darren can change from furious to content, but decides not to mention it.

"Yes!" he's so relieved that Darren smile is back, happy that he's got another chance. "Hi, I'm Spook. I really, really like you."

Darren actually giggles. "I like you too. A lot."

"That's good then," Spook offers. He tries to stay casual, cool and calm, but he's fizzing inside and can't seem to keep still, so he bounds over to sit next to his love instead. _Yes, I think that's the right word, _Spook thinks as Darren tilts his head round to chastely brush his lips by Spook's.

"So much drama," he laughs, and entwines his fingers in the dark, flame-red hair. "We are going to be a truly _fabulous _couple."

"Please," Spook scoffs. He leans in for another kiss- he can't seem to resist, but fights it to rest his lips next to Darren's ear. He whispers his next words, and is pleased to see Darren close his eyes, (framed by a fringe of thick, exotic black lashes,) and shiver slightly with a soft smile.

"I think we already are."

* * *

**AN: **Please tell me what you think!


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